Decomposition
by VoiSieteQui
Summary: <html><head></head>RuChi. This game that you and I created, It's fun, no? Harmless, amusing: plays of enjoyment till hate, humiliation, and jealousy become reasons for revenge. The twisted love that we hold for each other, only death will bring about the winner.</html>
1. Round 1

This stupid shit of a fanfic.

...

I hate it. So much.

The first chapter's fairly normal; things will become preeeetty messed up later. (Warning, gore and such).

STILL WHATEVER I WILL BOTHER YOU GUYS WITH THIS SHIIITTTYY STUPID STORY about ANGST and crap.

Funnel Cake or lollipops, strawberry ice cream, you choose if you review 3 (Do you see this? A heart! I gave you a heart!) Or cookies.

Don't own Hetalia.

Nor do I own any countries; however, that may change in the future.

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><p><strong>Interlude I<strong>

The phone would never ring.

Ivan reclined on the couch, watching the setting sun and sliding shadows while he slid his cell phone open and closed. Try as he might, he couldn't suppress the twisted feeling in his stomach, churning. No matter how much he wanted to hear the familiar tinkling of his ringtone, hastily pick and hear the mellifluous voice of his beloved laughing and smiling, whispering sweet words to him, only him –

He could only stare at the screen like some dumbfounded idiot.

The terrible aching in his eyes would not stop.

The phone. He wanted it never to ring.

But…he still had the hope, that hope that had budded one day on that maybe everything was still a dream, and his love might come back to him shyly wrapping his slender arms around his waist, looking up with a coy smile….if only.

If only the game had never begun.

"Yao…."

The sunlight sparkled as the rays of light reached the lone teardrop on the cell.

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><p><strong>Round 1<strong>

_Two boys were walking down a hallway, the second one looking like he was almost chasing after the shorter boy in front. "Yao! Come on, stop running, just hear me out!"_

"Leave me the fuck alone!"

Ivan huffed angrily, speed walking even faster down the school halls. He would have broken out into a full run had there not been classes in session on either side of the hallway. "I swear, love, just listen to me! It's not what you thought it was!"

"Fuck you. I'm sincerely convinced that you and me…you don't even give a shit about me do you?"

_Yao hissed angrily when his back was slammed painfully into the cold, hard wall. He refused to meet the taller boy's violet eyes and shoved futilely at Ivan's shoulders, as if that was going to work at all. "Don't TOUCH me. Don't touch me with these hands that touched him. Disgusting bastard. You revolt me."_

_The blonde's eyes flashed with malicious anger. "Are you kidding me? Why are you jumping to conclusions? You won't even give me a chance to explain, will you?"_

"No. You think some sweet, petty words to assuage me will work? I'm not a fool. There's nothing, nothing you can say to make me think otherwise." Yao spit on Ivan, gritting his teeth, clenching his small fists.

It was true – Ivan truly had no reason to give Yao…no matter how you could have looked at it, Ivan completely destroyed their relationship. Walking in to see Ivan and Alfred in a passionate embrace, lips locked and hair tousled, Yao had run out. Ivan didn't regret it though, making out with Alfred. He'd reveled in it, the passion, the danger….the heat and unrestraint. To his rather bipolar, teenage way of thinking, Yao always looked too delicate and innocent for the type of physical contact that he really wanted, and it was more an innate protectiveness that he didn't want to hurt the smaller boy in any way that made him turn to his friend, who turned out to be having a slightly similar problem with his boyfriend. (Though in Alfred's case, it was more like Arthur was too dense to catch onto the elder's advances.)

_The feeling of equal dominance, not having to worry about breaking his significant other was exhilarating. It was more stress relief and 'fun', different from what he felt about Yao._

_When it came to Ivan's pride, though, nothing, absolutely nothing could stop him when his ego was hurt. Not even Yao. "Disgusting…bastard?" He couldn't let this pass - it wasn't like Ivan was going to back down now. His eyebrows furrowed and easily removed Yao's hands from his shoulders. "Don't be so fucking stubborn! Just let me try to explain what the fuck happened, for once!" _

_Of course, there was nothing really to explain._

Yao tried to shake his boyfriend's fingers off of his wrist, but they held on tight, squeezing the pale skin until Yao could feel the purple blossoming under Ivan's grip. He took a deep breath, his voice dangerously quiet.

"_Do you think…it's possible for me, right here and now, to forgive what kind of appalling thing you did to me? You think that I could just LET GO? WHAT KIND OF FUCKING WORLD ARE YOU LIVING IN ASSHOLE?" Towards the end, Yao's voice rose to hysteria, shrieking unabashedly, his porcelain face flushed._

_And Ivan saw red. Forgive? Now Yao had to _forgive_him?_

The smaller boy broke off with a pained squeak when the blonde started squeezing his wrists harder, to where he felt they were going to snap. His eyes finally darted up, frightened, to the taller boy, who turned out to be glaring at the Asian as if he was a dead fly on the bottom of his shoe. The rage that Ivan felt was unparalleled. How dare this…

"You're a fucking bitch, Yao. A goddamned motherfucking bitch."

Yao froze.

_Silence permeated the air; the only sound was their mutual breathing._

_Ivan almost immediately regretted what he said, and he would have traded his all his life to take back the completely hurt, shocked look on the exotically beautiful face and the sick feeling in his stomach. _

_The pair of coffee colored jewels he looked into after lovemaking, the delicate eyebrows that portrayed the beauty's emotions, the pale pink lips that he'd sucked on ever so slightly that brought about giggles, now were all twisted into a grimace so miserable and wretched. _

_Shit….he should have never uttered those words. Regret came on quick, and these words, like daggers, had done the job too well, creating wounds that one could never recover from. He stumbled back, his hands limp when he saw the damage inflicted on Yao._

_He'd gone overboard this time._

_Large, dewy teardrops began to slide down Yao's face. The rage, indignation had disappeared…left only betrayal and disbelief. He spun around, beginning to run off back down the hall. He couldn't believe what came out of his mouth as he watched Yao's retreating figure. _

_"That's right! You better run, you slut! Sleeping with Francis, did you think I didn't know you disgraceful whore?" How completely untrue, and yet the lies and insults kept pouring out of his mouth even after Yao's figure rounded the corner, each curse word he threw only making him feel worse and worse, until he finally threw himself against the wall and slammed his fist into it. Even the shards of hard plaster that stabbed into his bleeding knuckles couldn't make him cry out in pain._

_What had he done…_

Two hallways down, Yao was still running, running, his breath hitching as he felt his very heart ripped to pieces. His silky raven hair fell into disarray and whipped around his face, covering his field of vision. Every false accusation Ivan hurled at him like, his slander that he wiped all over Yao's pride, the physical brutality of it all…Yao's tears were spilled for all to see.

_Shameless whore…_

_He kept running, his hands clamped over his mouth to keep him from shrieking in despair, until his feet tripped over the steps of the school and he was thrown into the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to control his anguish._

This was a game to him…wasn't it?

_Passionate kisses, furtive glances, then the ultimate consummation of their desire, Ivan had toyed with him. Heartless, it was all a cruel game to that man. Yao had loved him so much, he'd given his all and his everything, only for everything to be returned to him so mercilessly. _

…_.It takes two to play a game, Ivan._

_Ivan had won this time, but Yao could hold a grudge like no other. He would get him back, even if it was the last thing he did._

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><p><strong>COOKIES.<strong>

**FUNNEL CAKE.**

**ICE CREAM.**

Do you see this? I didn't lie, I gave you some:)


	2. Round 2

**A/N:**

**Sweet Jesus, pay attention to the words "Cold Lock"**

**I wrote this and when I skimmed it over, instead of seeing "cold lock" I omitted the "–ld Lo-"**

**Yep.**

**Hetalia isn't mine.**

**I was going to update a lot sooner till I lost the document...I honestly didn't want to write another sex scene over again, thought it was a pretty mild one. Sorry guys.**

**Shout out to: 454g, Meirin618, Jao Jao, MrsTrickster, 3.31.09, Lalalalala-Land, purple-ripples, XxDamned ForeverXx, buguize, Anonymous:)**

**Please R&R! **

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><p>"Faster…."<p>

The panting and the groans in the bathroom echoed throughout the space.

Voices melded together in pleasure and heavy breathing in harmony with luscious sounds of sucking and giggling. School clothes lay scattered on the impeccably clean tile floor, some buttons strewn on the ground as the two entwined figures had hastily removed their clothing in urgency.

"Ah…" Yao cried out in a sweet voice. "You're so good at this, Francis."

The brunette straddled the blonde, wrapping his slender arms around his partner. Francis caressed Yao's chest, leaving a trail of wet kiss marks up and down the milky, translucent plane. He ran his fingers through Yao's midnight hair, eyes closed in pleasure.

"Beautiful….like the lark, let me hear your voice cry out."

The unmistakable scent of mixing sweats, the slight snick as the two mouths closed the distance. Urgency, lust and desire. There was no time to think.

The Asian boy lifted his arms as Francis adjusted his position, his throbbing manhood ready to enter.

It was gentle – the initial penetration, as Francis slid slowly deeper and deeper, his hand gripping harder on Yao's thigh as he moved rhythmically. Yao braced himself harder against the bathroom stall, feeling the hard, cold lock bite into his lower waist. The intensity of what he felt was beyond imagination.

"Fuck….it's tight."

Something foreign was slamming his insides.

Through pants, Yao managed to slip through his teeth, "N-no….lotion….."

With each thrust, Yao winced, unaccustomed the length of Francis. His insides were slick now, and his nails dug hard into the European's back, leaving red, crescent marks. His shoulder length hair stuck to the frame of his face. It was hard to distinguish whether the slight sheen of moisture that veiled his skin was sweat or tears.

Yao twisted his fingers through Francis' flaxen hair, unable to control the heated gasps as Francis thrusts became increasingly urgent.

"Come inside!"

Both finally reached a heated climax, Yao felt his insides explode with Francis' essence as he jolted, Francis' groan emanating as they rode waves of pleasure. The porcelain doll released his breath in a panting gasp, unable to quietly contain the heat inside.

The two collapsed together, exhausted.

They lay there for what seemed eternity as Yao hid his face, turning away from his partner. Emotions completely overwhelmed him. Complex sensations of sadness bubbled in his heart – Yao felt utterly disgusted. He'd just let a foreign man violate him, touch him, kiss, caress him. The shock wore off, and the extremities of the boy's desperate actions reminded him of the consequences that would later arise.

Francis had been way too gentle.

Yao vowed, once before, that he would only give his body to his one and only love – Ivan. Sex was a sacred act, something he treasured and guarded with his heart. The pleasures of flesh, like nectar of the Gods, were addicting, and Ivan had always been so passionate, rough.

Yet now –

Yao was forced into a precipice, with nowhere to go, except over the cliff and into an endless void.

Bitterness and pain consumed all other emotions as he suddenly recalled Ivan's harsh words thrown at his turning back,

"_"That's right! You better run, you slut! Sleeping with Francis, did you think I didn't know you disgraceful whore?"_

Never in his life had Yao felt so broken, his heart ripped to pieces, dashed to the ground and burned mercilessly. Ivan had finally revealed his true feelings.

"Slut."

"Whore." "Bitch."

Ivan had Yao wrapped around his little finger, he had held Yao's beating, writhing heart in his hands and completely crushed it with brute force. He'd forgotten one thing though: Yao's pride was still intact.

He would never, ever let anyone insult his name like that ever again. Revenge would come on so sweet.

Sleeping with Francis was only the first step. Yao would throw his body away, his own values were secondary. He could only preserve the only thing that was whole left inside his crumbling resolve.

He'd loved Ivan.

The strong back he'd always hug, burying his face as he wrapped his arms around his form, Ivan's strong hands clasping his own. The way Ivan would call out his name, smiling. The way Ivan would lean in close, reaching out to sweep back Yao's hair to kiss his white neck.

The way Yao would comfort him when Ivan lost his senses, trying to assuage, pacify the child-like personality in an adult's body. He was forced to cover the cornflower blue bruises, nurse his own cuts and wounds, grit his teeth when stinging slaps greeted him. Yet enough was enough, Yao had suffered too much; the deep cuts couldn't heal with time. He'd be sure to make Ivan suffer as much as he did.

As he snapped out of his reverie, Yao slid out of Francis' lap, leisurely picking up the scattered articles of clothes on the ground. He bent over, tauntingly, as he felt Francis' heated gaze, once again as he saw his white cum slowly dripping down Yao's thighs.

"It's enough for today." Yao turned around, sighing dismissively, just before locking lips with Francis. His large hands grabbed Yao's waist, reaching down to wipe the sticky liquid, only to be stopped as Yao nipped his lips.

"Aren't you going to…?"

Francis met Yao's steady gaze with confused eyes.

"No." He answered with a sweet smile as he looked up.

There was a small click as the stop button was pressed on the video camera.

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><p>Ivan stomped down the hallway, pushing people aside as he fumed. The door to the bathroom was pushed with such force that it hit the wall with a bang. He went by every bathroom stall, kicking it open as his face was contorted with rage. This joke, game was no longer amusing. He checked the last door to the stall – it was locked.<p>

"Dammit! Open up!" Ivan yelled with raw fury.

From the inside, there was a quiet snicker.

It only added more fuel to fire as the tall, well-built Russian shook the door with such force that it opened. Ivan slammed the door to the bathroom stall closed, glaring down at the completely nonchalant brunette who was sitting on the closed toilet seat, humming a small tune to himself. Ivan would have once thought that his boyfriend's antics were witty, but all he felt now was complete and utter disgust.

"I can't believe you'd go this far, Yao."

Yao's large eyes flashed up, now slightly irritated as well. "Don't call me that, you bastard. Only my friends can call me that. I don't consider people who insult me as 'friends.'"

"I'm not your friend. I'm your boyfriend."

Yao's eyes became gravely serious. "Boyfriend? Surely you must be _joking!_ I'm sure someone like you would never want to be associated with a _cheating, lying, motherfucking whore_! "I'm your boyfriend? Try _'I was your boyfriend_!'"

Ivan's nostrils flared. "We never broke up."

And Yao looked up, his eyes falsely innocent once more. "Well. If you prefer it that way..." He stood up slowly, grabbing Ivan's hips and pushing him against the stall, smirking when he felt the taller's breath hitch expectantly. Yao fit his body snugly against Ivan's, going up on tip-toes so he was right by his ear.

"Ivan, baby? I'm breaking up with you, asshole."

Yao laughed bitterly when the older boy seemed to fall into shock, and he took that opportunity to flit through the open stall door, only for his hand to be grabbed and pulled back inside.

"You –"

Ivan swiftly lifted Yao's shirt, choking as he saw a trail of purplish hickeys across his chest. No….it couldn't be…All the insecurities Ivan had kept buried in his heart bubbled up as his eyes wheeled about. He'd only said everything in anger – his fears were confirmed as he reached to unzip Yao's pants. His hands slid in Yao's back, fingers reaching in, prying, only to feel something foreign.

Wet.

The look on Ivan's face was heartbreaking.

"That's right Ivan. It's not yours. Ask around, I'm sure it'll all be around school tomorrow."

Ivan's sneer wavered as he grew bitter, eyebrows knitting to hurt his own pain and sorrow that raged inside.

"We're over."

With these two swift, decisive words, Yao took the chance to dress and leave, closing the door on a stunned Ivan.

The ashy blonde was completely frozen as his knees gave out. How could this cruel ice princess be the sweet, gentle, and pure Yao that he fell in love with so long ago? Unconsciously, slow tears of inexplicable emotions had begun to drip off of the end of his chin and splatter onto the tiled floor.

He stayed there, immovable.

Yao had won this time; but little was this over.

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><p><strong>Who do you feel most sorry for?<strong>


	3. Round 3

**It's the middle of summer D:**

**and damn, it's hot outside.**

**I've been all over the place, traveling etc...and with that, I'll shut up and write. **

**Please R&R1**

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><p><strong>Round 3<strong>

Yao looked down, only to notice his hands shaking. They were slight tremors, unnoticeable to an unobserving eye, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching him closely. Paranoia was cloying like an overpowering fragrance, slowly substantiating into a liquid form, viscous fluid hardening into a cast.

The feeling of suffocation was too much.

The bamboo brush he held fell as Yao noticed the wet drops staining the thin, smooth rice parchment he was writing on, mixing in with the deep ebony of the controlled calligraphy strokes. This couldn't last for long, he was ruining the parchment. The smooth ideograms were marred, ink running down the paper like tears, very much like his own.

He quickly wiped away the wetness on his cheeks, smudging black in the process. His eyes turned toward the mirror, staring at himself. He looked like a mess; he was one on the inside. He couldn't think, feel, nor speak anymore. Seeing the silhouette of Ivan helpless on the ground was too heartbreaking, yet it was the guilt that he couldn't get over – the feeling of _satisfaction_ as he watched the man he cared for broken down, immovable. Revenge wasn't sweet as he thought it would be. He reveled too much in the syrupy saccharine, it had become like a drug.

Yao was _scared._

He was scared of himself, he was scared of this unknown joy that was previously unbeknownst to him.

He continued to stare the foreign figure in the mirror.

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><p>Ivan slipped out, quietly.<p>

He smiled, the white of his perfect teeth glinting in the streetlight as his shadow melted into the darkness.

If Yao was heartless enough to betray him…then Ivan would too. His calculating logic only masked the bitter, acrid stench of vodka on his breath. "End of relationship?" He and Yao were no longer together, no longer had any business to do with each other, yet Ivan wouldn't go without some blood, preferably.

He'd make Yao suffer so much that the child would come running back to his arms, begging for forgiveness for his disloyalty. He'd receive no sympathy when the Russian would refuse his advances, and watch him grovel on the ground for his love once again. His revenge, unlike Yao's physical sacrifices, would only involve others – it was normal for Yao to be so desperate.

He'd waited till after school to carry out this small, yet devastating revenge. Yao usually worked at the local bookstore till eight to earn a bit of pocket money – his distant parents told him to be self-reliant, and that pocket money would only "spoil him more than he already was." He'd always complain about his facial muscles hurting from too much fake smiling at customers at their reunion spot on the little wooden bridge tucked away to the side of the park – not many people knew about that place. Knowing Yao, he would probably go there to reminisce and mope, that gave Ivan ample time to carry and finish off everything.

It was 8:45.

Time for him to go, with a little present left for his beloved.

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><p>Yao returned home, hanging his satchel from the hook that he'd nailed in for convenience. He took off his shoes, his coat, and threw them on the breakfast table – the first thing he did was to check on his two lovebirds.<p>

He noticed something was off immediately – there was no sweet chirping or flurry of feathers, only silence, and slight shuffling of feet. He ran to the corner where he kept the bamboo cage and whipped off the blue suede cover, staring at what lay on the bottom of the wood in shock and despair.

Hands shaking uncontrollably, he slowly managed to lift the latch and pick up the small feathery body, cupping the lovebird, China, in his hands. Someone had snuck into his house and slit the poor bird's throat. It wasn't a clean cut either – that person…_that person_… had taken a blunt, rusty edge of something sharp and made ragged cuts at bird's throat, forcing it to suffer and die slowly. The little bird had long since died before Yao returned home from work, the dried blood already crusting at the bottom of the cage. The other lovebird, Russia, was very quiet and kept shifting around recklessly as if it wasn't sure of what to do at the corner of the cage.

Ivan had bought those two lovebirds for him as a one-year anniversary present last year, and the two of them had happily named the birds after the countries they were from. Yao sniffed slightly, wiping at the tears that were threatening to spill over as he cradled his deceased bird in his right hand.

"I'm so sorry, Russia," the brunette whispered as he buried his nose into the plumage of the bird that was still living. "I'm so sorry, too, China. I know who did this to you, and I'm so, so sorry."

Yao paused, trying to breathe deeply, to no avail.

"I can apologize…but it can't change anything anymore…I'm so helpless…"

His face crumpled into an expression of pure misery and sadness. He couldn't believe that his ex would go so far for just a breakup. It was one thing for Yao to sleep with someone, but a wholly different thing for Ivan to actually _kill_. So brutally too, he could envision the rage in Ivan's eyes as he committed this cruelty. Yao felt his blood boiling in anger as he kept staring down at China, its head bent in an awkward shape and its once bright eyes dimmed with death.

"I'll get him, China," Yao hissed, tasting salt as his tears slid into his mouth. "I swear I'll get him. For you."

His small white hand clenched into a fist, fingernails digging into the palms of his hand.

He stood up, and pointedly ignored the note taped onto the cage, which read unmistakably in Ivan's handwriting, 'I love you, whore." He later ripped it up and burned it on the stove.

Russia died four days later.

Yao held a small funeral and buried them both under his window, and a flower on their small grave they shared together. Finally together in death…

Ivan had gone too far this time, and he would pay. Dearly.


	4. Ivan Intermission, Round 4 Beginning

_I am slightly amazed by my 'proficiency' at times, because writing three pages is pretty much as far as I can go, because I am sure as hell not one of those writing machines that writes like, what, 16 pages every chapter *kof ahem* *points fingers at a certain someone*. That's just not realistic for me (procrastinator)._

_This chapter….made me feel really sorry for Ivan. He's just a poor, misunderstood kid. Or maybe not, that's up to you to decide. There's always two sides to a story, and I'm trying not to be biased or anything. This Rochu/ Ruchi (lol whatever) pairing is one of my favorites, and I think they're super cute together, but I adore China. I really do. But then again I think he's a bastard too._

_Shout out to:_

**bowsie22****, ****300love**** , ****icenflake**** , kitter, ****Meirin618**** , ****purple-ripples**** , ****Katter, ****DiscombobulatedCanadian**** , ****3.31.09****  
><strong>

_**and 454g~**_

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><p><em>~Intermission~ <em>

_: Ivan Braginsky_

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><p>Ivan's birthday was fast approaching.<p>

Though he was turning a year older, he felt definite dread as he aged another year. It wasn't the fact that something would be irrevocably changed – on that day, he knew that memories of once happy times would assault him.

Yao.

Did he go too far?

Was that…too cruel?

He suddenly thought back to Yao's betrayal, dispelling all thoughts of wavering. How dare he do something like this…there was a sharp pang in his heart as he crumpled over, head in hands, gritting his teeth in frustration. Under all the rage and fury he kept on the surface, Ivan was deeply hurt, still trying to mask everything with little boy determination.

Why, though….to go that far, to gamble with his own body…

Alfred and Ivan had only fumbled around, making out in locker room, perhaps going a bit further – But it was never the same commitment he had for Yao in his heart. His lover…no, his ex, was he really that injured? That betrayed? Still, Ivan couldn't get over the fact that he had to touch that disgusting French man's seed with his own hands, see the results of Yao having sex with someone else, his ravaged body covered with _that man's_ markings –

Yao was his, and no one else dare touch him.

Ivan got up from his leather sofa and walked to the bathroom, splashing his face with water, trying to cool himself down. In the mirror, hollow amethyst stared back, clouded with nameless emotions. A gaunt face – he hadn't eaten anything decent for the past five days. He looked pitiful, pathetic, mouth set in a firm, grim line, cheekbones too sharply angled, almost straining to break the skin.

He began to repeatedly wash his hands, first rinsing for 9 seconds, then adding the foaming soap, scrubbing his hands for 27 seconds, then rinsing everything off for 12 seconds. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Ivan counted his seconds by saying "Fuck."

The sticky sensation was still upon his fingers, no matter how many times he tried to wash it off.

There was the sound of tap water running, and Ivan's "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The quiet click as he pressed for more soap, then repeating his counting. He'd already washed his hands fourteen times when he heard the door to his luxury loft open, quiet footsteps echoing across the marble floors.

Damn housekeeper was already here.

He continued washing, blatantly ignoring the housekeeper's cheerful "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Master Ivan, are you in the bathroom?"

There was a knock at the mahogany door to his half bath.

The door was unlocked, Ivan continued to ignore the persistent knocks, till the door opened a small crack. The housekeeper, a pretty young female smiled brightly as she entered.

"Master Ivan, Happy Birthday!"

His counting had not stopped. He was on his 23rd "Fuck."

There was a concerned expression on the maid's face, but she quickly hid it under a professional countenance once again, before reciting:

"Your parents wish you a happy birthday too, wishing you the best of another year. Your gifts and presents will arrive by tomorrow, and they'll be in your living room. They say they miss you very much and –"

Ivan abruptly stopped washing his hands, tap still running. He was incredulous as he turned his head. "They said they miss me? _Very much?_" There was an uneasy quiet as the maid fiddled with her uniform.

He burst out laughing, tears in his eyes from amusement. "That's…" between gasping breaths, "got to be the funniest thing I've heard this whole shitty year." His laughing became maniacal, like a jackal, hyena before rounding its prey. It was not laughter of joy – it contained unspeakable spite and malice.

Ivan abruptly stopped chuckling. e HHis eyes suddenly grew serious, grave, voice bitter as he spat out,

"You can tell my parents that they sure as hell don't need to waste their fucking time 'missing' me. I've got better things to do than be 'missed' by those _old fucks_."

He dried his hands on the towel hanging nearby nonchalantly, pushing past the girl.

"Leave." He said quietly, padding down to the living room to get his wallet.

The girl looked at him with now openly worried eyes, calling out behind him, "Master Ivan, are you…are you okay?"

_Okay?_ Was he okay? He was the farthest thing from "okay," no one, no one understood what was going on in his mind…except for Yao. His heart was crying out for Yao, the only person who could connect to him, who cared deeply about him, the only one who would hold him when this painful day came. Now betrayed, watching the only person he'd received love from spit in his face, trampling on all his sincerity. Ivan was just scared, he wasn't used to this feeling of "love" he'd heard a million times over, portrayed so movingly in movies and books…he needed something to substantiate, solidify, something to remind him that everything wasn't that fairy-tale surreal. The love he couldn't get from his parents, the love he couldn't get from his peers.

The love, now that he no longer could get from Yao.

"Okay?" His voice was dangerously quiet as he looked up, staring at the girl right in the face, watching a pink blush creep along her cheeks.

"Oh, I'm okay, perfectly fine." He thumbed through his wallet, casually grabbing a handful of hundred dollar bills before throwing it at her. His eyes burned with fury as he looked her in the eyes, pity written all over her face.

Pity. That was the thing he hated the most. Yao had never, ever looked at him with those eyes.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" He yelled, voice thundering as he felt himself losing all control. "_Why do you even give a shit? For the money? That my parents don't give a flying fuck about me? I don't need your damned pity everything's fake, like you even give a shit about me no one can be trusted no one anymore they're all liars liars he's a liar__**,**_** I LOVED HIM!**" Ivan suddenly snapped, feeling as if his insides were being torn out from the emotional pain. He was screaming blindly, ripping up all of the money he had in his thick wallet, throwing all the precious vases and antiques he'd collected and smashing them over any available, hard surface. There was no stop to his rampage, his emotional breakdown. "**I LOVED HIM I TRUSTED HIM AND HE AND HE THREW ME AWAY THAT BASTARD HE TOOK THIS HEART AND HE- "**

There was a murderous look on his face as Ivan advanced onto the girl. He was in an uncontrollable fury as he reached out, about to wrap his hands around her slender white neck. His vision blurred as he saw the girl's face transform into Yao's, wearing the same smirk as he did after he saw Ivan, immovable on the bathroom floor, before coquettishly flitting away, his giggling voice echoing in the halls.

"_Ivan deeeeeaaaaar….you can kiss my ass goodbyyyyyyyeeeeeee!" _

His large hands started to squeeze, as he watched Yao's face contort in pain, gasping for release.

"_No, Ivan, you can't do this anymore! You can't keep hurting others to keep yourself from hurting! That's just wrong, and it's hurting everyone around you! _

Yao's voice unexpectedly resounded in his head, and Ivan suddenly felt tired. His grip grew slack as he let the girl go, watching as she muffled her own screams of fright before hurriedly running out the door, running for her very life.

Ivan collapsed onto the ground, dollar bills fluttering everywhere. Lethargy crept up on him like a fast acting drug.

He was so, so tired. Tired of trying to vie for affection he'd never get, tired of constantly getting hurt and betrayed, tired of revenge.

He once had two things – Yao and money.

Only money, he knew, would be there for him till death.

_-Intermission end-_

* * *

><p><strong>Round 4 Part 1<strong>

The sound of the teacher's mundane lecture served as a soothing lullaby as Ivan felt himself drifting off, his head in his arms as he sprawled all over the desk. It'll be over soon, he thought to himself as he began to count the bottles of vodka in his head. Absolut, or Grey Geese? Citron, or Regular? He sighed again, looking up at the board only to see the teacher scrawl numerous symbols and diagrams.

Physics again.

Something he didn't need to learn, something that he'd already learned five years ago, to be precise. His head drooped as he found comfort within his own arms when he felt someone flick something at his head. He let out an irritated grunt, but didn't respond.

_Flick. _

_Flick. Flick. _

_Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick._

Ivan turned around, irritated. His violet eyes burned with annoyance as he looked around for the instigator. Did that person have a death wish? He swiveled around in his chair, only to see an idiotic blonde waving at him with utmost urgency.

"Hey!"

"Pssssssstttttt…yoyoyoyoyo!….Hey!"

Ivan frowned at him, rolling his eyes as he brushed the silver hair to the side and out of his line of vision. Did this guy want to be caught by the teacher? It was so obvious that he was trying to pass notes, and his exaggerated motions and what he considered 'whispering' were way too conspicuous. How was he even friends with this dumbass?

Alfred F. Jones, realizing that he finally caught the Russian's attention, started mouthing words that Ivan couldn't read. He pointed at his mouth as he began to distort his face, like he was talking in slow motion. There was nothing more that Ivan wanted to do than dig a hole ten feet into the ground and hide there as his classmates began to notice and point. He had no idea how Arthur ever even put up with universe's biggest idiot…

No wonder that rather 'prim and proper,' horribly sarcastic Englishman was so bitter, huh.

"_Rea…."_

Ivan caught the first few letters.

"You want me to…..?" Ivan was still clueless as Alfred heaved a dramatic sigh, glancing up at the oblivious teacher, shaking his head in utter disappointment, his hands making what seemed to be seemingly inappropriate and vulgar gestures.

The silver blonde suddenly looked shocked, his eyebrows rose in surprise, eyes a mix of disgust and disbelief as he thought he figured what the other blonde wanted him to do.

"You….you want me to _'ream your ass_?'" he said quickly under his breath.

Alfred's ocean blue eyes went wide as he took in what his friend just said. A hot blush quickly painted his cheeks as he shook his head vehemently in indignation and horror.

"_What the hell? I told you to 'read my note' you asshole, not 'ream my ass!' Jesus Christ, for the love of Rebecca Black you're such a jerk–"_

Ivan suddenly understood every word Alfred mouthed. His lips formed into an understanding "O" as he nodded silently, his hands covering his mouth to hide his snickering. The balls of paper Alfred had flicked were still on his desk, so Ivan began to unfold the crumpled pieces of paper, smoothing them out so he could read the scrawled, barely legible handwriting.

_Treet u 2 sumthin' aft. Rugby? Hape b-day btw._

Holy shi-

Stalin rest in peace.

This was even worse than textspeak – it was just straight up, bad spelling.

Treet? Hape?

The only thing that lazy ass blonde spelled right was Rugby. At least it wasn't 'Rugbe.' But perhaps that smudgy 'y' might just be a really bad 'e." Ivan should have known not to expect too much from a person who would tackle a stupid Ronald McDonald clown at the fast food chain like a kid raping Santa Claus' knee and begging the clown to stay at his house forever and ever.

Ivan sighed as he looked back at Alfred and shook his head. That boy was hopeless, his dreamy eyes emanating "Rapemerapemerapeme" waves to Arthur, sitting in the front row taking notes, who was more or less slightly oblivious his the dimwit's obvious advances.

Dumb idiots should stick together.

That, Ivan grudgingly thought, included himself as well.

"Excuse me, Mr. Braginsky? Mr. Braginsky!" The teacher began calling him, frustrated for there was no response.

"Mr. Braginsky, just who are you looking at?"

Crap. He'd taken care so that the teacher wouldn't notice, but –

"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry."

"I need you to explain this to the class – if you have time to be daydreaming, do tell us how to –" Ivan smiled sheepishly at the teacher, the looked down as his dark eyes flashed. Ugh. It was all Alfred's fault.

He opened his mouth to speak. "Coulomb's Law, which describes the electrostatic attraction between electrically charged particles. The equation begins by the constant, K, and q1 and q2…"

Class would be over in fourteen minutes.


	5. Round 4 Complete

I was also forced to watch Beastly on the plane. It was awful….so horrid. Ugh, god-awful. I wanted to wretch, and the whole time, I had this horrifying/ horrified look on my face. It was …..so terrible. If you asked me to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10 the best I would give it is a -79.

And also….Sorry for not updating in so long. Really bad writer's block - I didn't know what to write next – I was just stuck on this one sentence, and this, paired with school, testing, and no sleep…..forgive me! *le gasp! I wrote 11 pages! A feat!*

**Hetalia is not mine; **

**Pairing wise**: A little bit of RuAm, UsUk, SuFin (O3O), mainly Rochu (or what was left of it),

**Warning**: Language, probably.

* * *

><p><strong>Round 4 Complete:<strong>

There was no one left in the locker rooms - the sun was already setting, casting a reddish glow through the glass windows that covered the entire west side of the walls. A door slammed, and from the sauna came Alfred, grinning from ear to ear, proudly wearing his new black eye like a Boy Scout patch as he sauntered over and sat on the wooden benches, yawning.

"Ugh….damn that bastard Sergio, he totally punched me in the eye on purpose! Shoulda known better that commie had some dirty tricks up his sleeve. " Alfred cursed under his breath, not bothering to change into his uniform as he took a swig of water.

"You sure seem pretty happy about that black eye though." Ivan replied, glancing up, unimpressed, opening the blue locker door with a click.

"A hero's got to be a hero! It's badass! It's my badge of honor, why _wouldn't_ I be proud?"

Ivan looked at him with raised eyebrows, shaking his head slightly as he continued to listen to the blonde ramble on. He wasn't in the mood to talk.

"…and I like totally defeated the evil villain, you should've seen the bite marks! A hero's gotta retaliate and I bit that Cuban bastard hard twice on the thighs when I was stealing the ball away from him and I had no idea how I managed to get in that position but I went all ninja dude, Kiku would be proud, on that son of a beotch but he totally saw it coming, but remember like in History Class we were talking about that Babylonian King's laws "an eye for an eye" anyways I think his name was Hammer-lobby or whatever but yeah I was like 'Heeeeeell nooooo are you going to-"

"It's Hammurabi last time I checked." Frankly, Ivan was also surprised that Alfred even paid attention in that class.

"Oh."

There was a peaceful silence that followed afterwards, both friends lost in their own thoughts, until Alfred slung his arm over Ivan's snow white shoulders, intimate contact that seemed so effortlessly natural, a complement to their friendship.

"Man I still don't get how you can stay this pale when you're all out summer playing rugby with us. I mean, look at Gilbert, Ludwig, Antonio, Mathias, and Herakles! We're all tan but this is insane! You're white as a sheet - Maybe that's why Yao liked you so much too, isn't white skin considered beautiful he comes from?"

At the mention of Yao's name, Ivan stiffened under Alfred's touch. His countenance suddenly darkened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous violet slits, mouth set firm in a straight, grim line. Alfred picked up on the change of atmosphere and jumped back, hands in the air. He'd only just realized the insensitive blunder he'd made.

"Dude, man. I'm really sorry about that – I didn't mean it that way, really I-"

His apology was met only with steely silence.

Suddenly Ivan turned around, facing Alfred with a cheerful smile – or perhaps _too_ cheerful. His eyes were crinkled till Alfred couldn't clearly see Ivan's eyes; teeth were showing a bit too much, savage and animalistic. Alfred's instincts kicked in, the smile sending chills up his spine as he felt his blood run cold.

This menacing smile…he hadn't seen in a long time.

"Past tense? _Liked?"_

"That's just cold." The Russian's mood quickly shifted as he playfully slapped the American's head to the side and quickly steered the conversation towards a different subject. "So how are you with Arthur? Anything happen since we…" Ivan trailed off as he noticed Alfred's crestfallen expression.

"I'm guessing no?"

Ivan had struck a nerve in the American – The boy was in denial.

Alfred stared at the locker in front of him and bit his lip, desperately trying to immerse and convince himself of how _absolutely interesting_ it was to count the almost unnoticeable spots of faded paint and cracks in the wall, ocean eyes roaming aimlessly.

The American took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, his large hand hiding the wounded expression on his face.

"I don't really want to talk about that." He paused, unusually subdued. "It's not like he…" an uncharacteristic broken, bitter laugh, "actually cares, right?" Alfred's nonchalant tone only made the pain in his voice more apparent, eyes dimmed, brows furrowed.

"I try and try…and _no matter what I do_, I'm always doing something wrong!" His voice cracked as raw emotion seeped into his impassioned burst. "He doesn't even _**look**_at me, he doesn't _**care**_ about me! Arthur pretends that I don't exist…and I-…I-I'm nothing to him! I can't do any damn thing right…I'm so _helpless_!"

Alfred slammed his fist into the locker, disregarding the shock of pain that jolted up his arm. Ivan could only look on, placing a hand on his friend's bare shoulder, which Alfred shrugged off with shuddering breaths.

He gritted his teeth in frustration, pacing between the wooden benches.

"I want his love, I want his attention. I want him to **KNOW** that I love him and I want him to love me…I want him to know he's the number motherfucking ONE in my heart, why can't things be simple, just like that? I'm always chasing after his back, after his shadow, and when I do catch up – he's….he's not there anymore. My fingertips touch only his…. "

Ivan froze.

_I want his love._

_I want his attention._

_I want him to know I love him and I want him to love me._

Alfred's voice was muted in the background as the words hit Ivan hard, hit him like a solid punch to the stomach that crippled and rendered him immobile.

He wished it was that simple. He wished that Yao knew the unspoken feelings in his heart. He wished that Yao would love him back unconditionally, that he would know how much Ivan loved him. Though never said out loud, he'd thought that his feelings were conveyed in nameless time they'd spent together, memories captured in a single shutter frame, trapped in a ringing melody of laughter.

Yet…

Now was too late to turn back. They'd gone too far in this game of decomposition.

In a maze of unwritten code, the rules were unbreakable, irreversible.

Ivan suddenly snapped out of his reverie and realized that Alfred had stopped his lamentations, unusually quiet. Hurried footsteps echoed down the long, vacant hallway. Alfred cocked his head, listening closely.

"Someone's coming here."

Could it be….?

Ivan suddenly felt a sensation bubbling in his throat, a small hope – a giddy, rising feeling of…Only to be quashed mercilessly by heavyset reality.

There'd be no way the person coming would be Yao.

Decay and degeneration. Piece by piece; the love once held by gentle palms squeezed till a shuddering crimson burst.

A quiver, a tremble – only to be no more.

They sat there together on the wooden bench, Ivan and Alfred, waiting for the door to open.

* * *

><p><em>Tap. Tap. Tap.<em>

The increasing tempo of flurried feet abruptly stopped at the sleek door that led to the locker rooms.

* * *

><p>It was a shamelessly extravagant private school where parents, politicians, multi-millionaires, company executives, media personalities, donated vast amounts of money to support and win the school's favor for the future of their child. Rather than wishing their children a beyond 'good' education; in essence it was bribery under a 'legitimate' name.<p>

Facilities were top notch, high tech, unsurpassed in this day and age. Cuisine was impeccable, education flawless, the school grounds tended by world class gardeners, the dorms were more like high rise luxury lofts. Even the crisp uniforms of the school were endorsed by top designers of the fashion world, used as advertisement for their prestige. Not a thing missing – the students of the famous were bathed in extravagant luxury and opulence.

Some of the students wasted away in indulgence, whereas others took the opportunity to build more 'connections' to the world of top executives. Diligence and inquiry were prized qualities, yet many students suffered from the lack of motivation, and most of all, any sort of familial, parental love.

That¸ was exactly what Ivan was missing. Besides the cold seven minute videoconferencing twice a year with his father out of cordiality, he never recalled a time where he could tangibly touch him except the day he was born, he presumed. He'd actually begun to think that maybe he had a surrogate mother, or that he was a test tube baby. Thrown from nanny to nanny, tutor to tutor, he'd grown desensitized any sort of affection.

That was…until he met someone who knew what family actually meant–

He met…

Ivan snorted.

In the end, it was all the same, wasn't it?

All the others, like Alfred, in one way or another had their own abandoned backgrounds – parents with multiple lovers, illegitimate bastard child that only furthermore exacerbated their conditions.

Lost children with nowhere to go except further into a midnight abyss.

That was why it was rare to find someone so enthusiastic about school. Ivan and Alfred had only seen a few of _those_ people, genuinely liked by the general population, popular, happy, and sociable. Those people were far and few between.

* * *

><p>"Aha!"<p>

A blonde head poked out from beneath the door, wearing a cheerful smile. Long lashes, cornflower, almost violet colored blue eyes, his creamy pale complexion matched the country where he'd immigrated from – Finland. He had a delicate air about him, his small frame which only made it seemed like he needed to be protected.

Which explained the cold chill that ran down Ivan and Alfred's backs as they felt an icy stare from a pair of emotionless eyes that penetrated through the door – fixed coldly towards their general direction.

"Ivan! Alfred! I finally found you guys! The boy, who was in the same grade as Ivan and Alfred, seemed to be oblivious of the dark waves emanating from behind him.

Ivan glanced at the figure at the door and recognized him instantly. Tino Väinämöinen. He was the paragon of…everything Ivan was not. One of 'those' types of people – happy, fiery, passionate, kind, endearing, meticulous – which earned him the respect of most everyone at school. The teachers liked him, the students looked up to him. Ivan had a hard time believing the goodwill of the boy in front of him.

"Prez!" Alfred's loud voice made everyone jump. "What are you doing here?"

Blushing at the title, Tino stammered a bit. "There's no need to call me that! Really, Tino's fine!" In his hands, the boy was holding a small, gift wrapped box. Though far away, Ivan thought the pastel colored green seemed oddly familiar.

"Why not? I mean I seriously don't want to repeat that insanely long title of yours, and it's totally obvious that Prez is a lot cooler sounding than 'President of Student Council' which makes you sound old and stuffy and gro-…er…ah."

Alfred wisely cut off as a towering figure emerged from behind the door, his brows furrowed as he glanced around the room with a disapproving countenance.

"Oh…." Alfred laughed nervously, abashedly scratching the back of his head as he greeted the Vice President. "H-hey Berwald." He received only a grunt in response, and a nod of the head.

Berwald adjusted his sharp glasses on the bride of his nose, his intimidating aura building the rising tension in the air. Out of all the people at school, Ivan had only met another person who was as tall as him, and most certainly just as unapproachable – and that was Berwald, who was a successor to a huge Swedish corporate company.

Berwald was physically attractive if you looked past his constantly grim, threatening expression he subconsciously put on – his piercing sapphire eyes were unwavering, his ruggedly handsome facial features contrasted Tino's willowy and feminine look. His physique was impeccable, strong undulating muscles rippling underneath the sharp, custom tailored navy blue blazer, enough for any girl – or guy - to stop and look twice.

Nevertheless, as Alfred put it, the man looked seriously constipated all the time.

Tino and Berwald were somewhat of an inseparable pair – where one went, the other followed. Berwald was undying loyal and fiercely protective of Tino, and Tino's affection for the Swede wasn't hidden too well either, calling Berwald by the endearment "Sve." When Berwald was around Tino, the slightest of smiles would ghost across his lips, his forehead would smooth out and look…it was hard to describe the feeling that Berwald gave off…but 'tender' was the closest word there was.

Their friendship, as Ivan sensed, was probably perhaps something more. Call it a man's (supposed) intuition, or perhaps the fact that he was heavily biased from the influence of fangirls that constantly followed Tino and Berwald around giggling and squealing while snapping pictures of the 'couple.'

"Ivan…Ivan? Hey Ivan did you catch what I just said?" Tino came close and waved his hand in front of Ivan's face till he snapped out of his deep thinking.

"Ah, sorry…I wasn't paying much attention." Ivan shook his head, and looked up startled, only to find Tino's palm right in front of his face.

A pink blush spread across the delicate Finn's face as he realized the proximity between him and Ivan. His gaze followed Tino's as he glanced down and realized that he was very much half naked, his hair still wet from the shower he'd taken. Not to mention, Ivan realized that he hadn't put on a shirt – his denim jeans for after school occasions was the only thing he had on. He turned to look at Alfred, who was worse off, with only a towel to wrap around his nether regions as he grinned sheepishly like an idiot.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became very, very awkward.

Berwald cleared his throat as Tino shifted uncomfortably, quickly looking away, fiddling with the small box he had in his hands. Ivan began to grope aimlessly around, looking for an available _anything _to put on, a cotton shirt, a jacket. There was too much testosterone contained in one room, and Ivan could tell Berwald wasn't all too happy about Tino's embarrassment.

"Well…" The boy's voice shook as he tried to speak again, when a sudden motion made the light blonde gasp. Berwald had gently grabbed Tino's shoulder, his arm now wrapped around the Finn's waist and pulled him close possessively, much to the chagrin of the other.

"B-Berwald! What are you doing?"

"'S fine. You c'n st'll t'lk l'ke th's." Tino struggled halfheartedly against Berwald's iron grip, giving up after a few pushes, his brows drawn together and blood rushing to his face, a vivid red. Tino closed his in frustration and embarrassment before opening them once again and standing on his tip toes to whisper in Berwald's ear. Of course, everything that Tino said was audible – the room amplified every sound and Tino wasn't trying too hard to murmur softly either.

"Berwald! What are you doing?" Tino hissed under his breath. "We're in _public _and I'm not a child! You don't need to keep on trying to shield from seeing things _you _think I shouldn't see, I see it all the time! Just because I – "

Berwald looked down, his gaze softening as Tino gently castigated him.

"I jus' w'nt'd you t' look 't me."

Tino wrinkled his nose as he looked at Berwald with exasperation, sighing as he was helpless against Berwald's candid, frank words. "Berwald." Tino paused, momentarily forgetting the two other people eavesdropping on the conversation. "Berwald, I understand that you think that – " Tino visibly gulped, "think that we're…more than friends but – "

"B't w' h've a hous' a k'd 'nd a d'g."

Tino gasped, shaking his head in shock – to Ivan, it seemed like Tino was more mortified than anything else, his pale face coloring even more furiously than previously before. His voice rose an octave as he no longer even tried hiding his voice.

"Berwald! I don't know what you're thinking! We're _not like _some _old married couple!_ Just because we live together in the house you bought doesn't mean that we're _together_, and just because we have a dog that greets us when we come back together…it doesn't…it doesn't mean _that…that we're like that! _And also that little kid we picked up off the streets was only b-because we felt sorry for Peter and i-it doesn't mean we have a k-kid or anything! I'm not your w-wi-"

Tino was only reduced to blubbering as Berwald pushed Tino behind him, his eyes sweeping around, stopping on Ivan and Alfred in a very menacing manner.

"Ah…."

Ivan and Alfred could only look on, stunned.

Meanwhile, Tino regained his senses and dignity as he pushed past Berwald, clearing his throat, breathing deeply, and sweeping a lock of his hair behind his ear in a businesslike fashion. "That aside, Ivan – you're good friends with Yao, are you not?"

At the mention of Yao's name, Ivan looked away. Tino forged on, not noticing Ivan's unwillingness to answer.

"Apparently, his name has been on the absence list quite a lot recently, and I was wondering what had happened. Here." Tino handed him a small manila packet. Ivan opened it and sifted through, to find that they were all the work that Yao was required to make up. "Could you please give this to him? He and his family haven't been answering our calls to his house either."

Ivan nodded reluctantly – he'd noticed that Yao had been missing school frequently. Nodding was better than saying anything – It wasn't like he was going to give Yao the homework anyways.

"Oh! And one last thing while we're at it." Tino pressed the small box into Ivan's hands. "Happy Birthday Ivan!" Tino broke into a smile as he leaned forward. "You're finally turning 18 this year, right?"

"Yao gave me this present a few days before and told me to give this to you." Ivan looked down and suddenly realized why the coloring seemed so familiar. It was wrapped in the gift wrapper Yao would always use when there was a little special something that he wanted to give Ivan – he had matching stationery, pencils, pencil boxes, notebooks, all with the same pastel green with small pandas holding hands. Yao used to say that one panda was Ivan and the other was himself with a smile, grabbing Ivan's hand and slipping a small envelope into his pocket.

Ivan didn't know what to think, or what to say as matter of fact. He felt expectant gazes watching him – from Tino, to Berwald, and Alfred – as he continued to look down at the small present in his hand. He wanted to hurl it at a wall, to crush it in his hands, to hold the present close and open it, treasure whatever was inside it. A prickling sensation in his eyes occurred as he cleared his throat.

"I guess he was too sick to give it to me, right?" Ivan's head snapped back up, gazing at something far away. "It was quite….nice of Yao to remember that." A broken smile as his violet eyes misted over with a distant look.

"I didn't think he would."

* * *

><p>He sat on his ivory sofa, staring at the perfectly square box placed directly in the center of the rectangular, frosted glass table.<p>

The box itself seemed too menacing, too perfect to be true.

Ivan knew Yao would never forgive him for killing those birds – he didn't quite forgive himself for what he did in a fit of rage and drunkenness. Staring at the box, he'd wondered if this gift brought devastation or absolvent. It was just a box, he thought to himself…surely he wasn't afraid to open it, right?

The green seemed to goading him – Ivan swayed over to the mahogany coffee table where he opened a drawer and looked inside. They were all letters that they had exchanged somewhere in the distant past.

He'd kept all the envelopes, the stickers and filed them, clear page protectors revealing the countless words they had written to each other. Ivan slammed the drawer shut and walked back to table.

_To hell with it._

It seemed like he'd suffered the worst of everything already, what more could truly hurt him? Yao was no more to him, Yao was dead in his heart. It wasn't like…anything more could devastate him as deeply.

When he opened the box, there was slim, compact DVD neatly bundled up with a bow that Yao had probably personally tied himself. Ivan recognized the familiar shape. He turned the disc over in his hand, only to find a sticky note pasted on the back. He looked closely at it.

_How could I ever forget your birthday, Ivan? _

He wordlessly peeled it off and slid the disc into his DVD player as the TV flickered on in the dark room. Ivan switched channels until he found the DVD input mode and pressed the play button and set down the remote with a clack.

The screen was blue for a moment when Yao's delicate face came into view.

_You didn't think I would give you a present, right?_

Ivan stared at the screen, motionless.

_You're probably drunk while you're watching this, and don't lie to me. I know you are._

He glanced at the open can of beer that was dangerously close to the edge of the table, close to spilling on the carpet.

It felt like ages since Ivan had seen Yao's face, his eyes like wet stones, his playful expressions, his small idiosyncrasies. He eyes were mesmerized as he watched Yao's pink lips open and close.

_Happy Birthday, Ivan. Happy 18__th__. I'm sorry I won't be there when you do turn that age but – _

Ivan had always thought that Yao's voice, looks, his smile were all so angelic. So pure, so untainted. He was wondering where Yao was going with the fake smile he put on.

The beautiful face twisted into a sneer as Yao put his face closer to the camera. His expression was of pure malice, eyes dark with hatred as he spat out:

"Have a _fucking _happy birthday, Ivan. Enjoy it like the _sick person_ you are."

The screen turned black, then once again came alive.

"_Ah…You're so good at this Francis."_

The beer spilled on the white carpet, discoloration of yellow blooming in the darkness of the room.

Ivan made no motion to clean up the mess as he sat in alone in the darkness.

_Happy Birthday, Ivan._

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for stupid grammar errors or stuff I left out. I was too lazy to go back and check ;_;.<strong>

**Please tell me what you think!**


	6. Yao Intermission, Round 5 Beginning

**A/N**:

Er…..

_.

I'm really sorry guys…this fic isn't dead. I suppose I should make it a challenge that I update maybe once a week, but…just lol. The mere though makes me snicker/ scoff at (myself!) for even thinking of such unattainable things.

Just be warned, there's a lot of Kpop refs in this one, explained down below. This Intermission's a rather light-hearted one, being a failed attempt at an omake...smh/

And Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

**454g: **Fav story? Thank you, I'm honored. And you even reread Chapter 2? My goodness – thank you for your diligent reviews, I'm glad you're happy with my characterization! I will update to the best of my ability *feels a bit guilty*.

**LLm**, **Italks08, Meirin618**: Thank you so much for reviewing!

**Icenflake**: I'm sorry…T_T. Here's another update! Jealousy is really a strong emotion that stirs people up, right?

* * *

><p><strong>~Round 5 Yao Intermission~<strong>

* * *

><p>"I want you to cut it all off."<p>

Yao sat in the swiveling leather chair, looking past the bright salon lights and carefully studied his face as a bubbly blonde bustled about, whistling cheerfully. As soon as the words were uttered, he swung around, gasping in mock anger and poked his index finger at Yao's forehead.

"Are you like seriously, totes out of your mind? Have you finally lost all your common sense and brain cells, to like…ew…studying?"

Yao rolled his eyes and managed a forced laugh. "And _who_ exactly is the one whose brain cells and common sense rapidly depleted _years ago?_"

Feliks pouted and 'hmphed,' flippantly dismissing the notion as blasphemy with a trite wave of his hand and rummaged for some hair care products on the expansive ebony shelves next to the seat. He continued to chatter on, "Seriously, like there's totes no way I'm going to cut all that gorgeous hair off!"

"It's like your only best feature!"

"What?" Yao grimaced. "Are you _trying_ to make me feel even worse, Feliks?"

Feliks' emerald eyes were wide and innocent as he smiled and flashed a mischievous smile. Much to Yao's surprise, the boy smacked Yao's cheeks and pinched them tight and drew them upward till Yao's face was contorted into a semi-awkward smile. "Ow-o-ow!" Yao yelled as he playfully pushed Feliks back and rubbed his sore cheeks.

"That hurt you bastard! Your hands are too cold!" Yao pretended to be mad, folding his arms together and refusing to look at his blond friend.

Feliks suddenly grew serious as he leaned in. "At least that got rid of the totally ugly furrow between your eyebrows."

Yao looked down, not saying anything.

"Are you really okay?"

"…."

Feliks combed through Yao's wet hair, brushing it to ensure all the knots were out. He continued to ask worriedly.

"I don't know what happened….but what happened between you and Ivan – it was pretty bad, right?"

Yao blinked, then sighed. "…Yeah." He fell silent and played with the key in his hand, lost in his thoughts. With this haircut, off would come the long tresses of hair that he'd kept, off would come all the memories that came with it.

Two years, he kept this hair, because _he_ had said it was beautiful.

Yao finally understood why girls cut their hair after having their hearts broken - it was a new, fresh start, a physical manifestation of their lightening hearts and minds as they threw away past relationships and looked onwards. The hair, that he had once loved, now only served as bonds to tie Yao back from forgetting.

That was why, today, he was going to cut it all off without any regrets and look forward to a new love and future, perhaps it would be all sparkly with flowers flying in the background whilst cheesy music played in the background in the gardens of the park where he would meet his fut-

Ugh.

Perhaps he was reading too many Japanese comics that his brother, Kiku, left lying around in the house. He'd secretly snatched the magazines from his room and read it in his spare time, making sure Kiku didn't catch him. He was almost done with _Marmalade Boy_, and everything was too confusing for Yao to keep up with. Stupid family ties. He sobbed like a baby and cried in a fetal position at the part when they split up, but it wasn't like Yao was going to admit it…But in the manga, the girl cut her hair when she decided to have a fresh start, and forget about the man she previously loved so fervently before.

Yao could _so _empathize with the girl's feelings and emotions. They both faced terrible predicaments, their mutual frustration, sorrow, melancholy, sadness, their jerk of boyfriends an - but suddenly, harsh reality hit him and it occurred to Yao that:

a) He was not a girl.

b) He was not Japanese.

c) He was not in love with anyone blood related to him.

d) He was not in a shojo manga.

So much for trying to comfort himself, because there would be no guarantee there would be a happy ending.

"Happy ending…." Yao muttered under his breath, and sniffed at the idea. Surely it wasn't all the Korean dramas he watched with his brother that was getting to him…

"ANIKIIIIIIII!"

Speak of the devil. Yao suddenly snapped out of his supposed deep thoughts and his blood chilled when he recognized the familiar voice at once. Feliks whipped around, eyes narrowing as he pinpointed the intruder coming at the seated Yao with the horsepower of fifteen Asian mothers bargain shopping for –

"…THE RICE! The rice is over there! Kpop! G Dragon! Morning Glory! Sale – Today - " Frantic, Yao began to flail wildly as hyperventilation set in as he braced himself for the oncoming onslaught as he blabbered anything to stop the hurtling mass of flesh aimed straight for him. His voice rose an octave higher as the blur began to get dangerously closer and closer every passing second. "4minute! MBLAQ! Goo Hara and Junhyung are dating!"

"IM YONG SOO! ARE SNSD TIFFANY'S WHITE SHORTS TOO SHORT?"*

Miraculously, the kid stopped right before crashing into Yao, chocolate brown eyes wide with disbelief and amazement. "Amazing aniki! I was just about to ask you that~da ze! You never told me you had ESP!"

Yao heaved a sigh of relief, rolling his eyes and attempted to calm his heart down. The pounding in his ears was too loud; every time his little brother, Im Yong Soo , saw him at school, it became a life or death matter of avoiding the insanely hyper, somewhat clueless teenager with a huge brother complex.

Feliks recovered slightly from the whirlwind of movement and leaned forward to look closely at Yong Soo. "So he's your little brother right? He's like, totes not bad looking." Feliks winked. "Do you think sixteen is, like, a little bit too young for me?"

"FELIKS!" Yao gasped, glaring at the Pole, whispering furiously. "He's my little brother and you are so NOT going to hit on him!"

"Joking, joking!" Backing away, the airy blonde gave him a wry smile and reached down to grab some more hairclips.

The glare did not lessen, Yao still caught Feliks sneaking glances at Yong Soo, taking in the lazy smile, tousled hair, the dirty soccer uniform. Yong Soo was only two years younger than Yao, but he was well known throughout the school for his easygoing and carefree personality. "What now?" Yao asked tiredly, rolling his eyes. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Unfazed by Yao's dismissive attitude (probably because he was used to it), Yong Soo ecstatically replied as he tugged on his elder brother's hand. "That's exactly what I came here for da~ze! To give you pointers on what sort of haircut you need!"

Yao shot the smiling kid a sort of look mixed with disgust, exasperation, and…a hint of fear and vehemence. "D-didn't I tell you, Im Yong Soo, for the last time, I have no desire in hearing any of _your_ opinions regarding the matter of _my_ free will in deciding what sort of haircut I get? Don't tell me your fashion sense is unparalleled, because we've been through this before –"

"Plus, like," Feliks cut in, "_I'm_ in charge." Looking slightly offended, he sniffed and tossed his head back, lazily drawing out, "Just like, exactly _who_ do you think I am?"

"But!" Yong Soo turned his pleading, chocolate puppy eyes towards the blonde. "He can't just cut all of his hair off! It'd be terrible – hold on," He paused for a second, turning to his slightly scuffled looking backpack and rummaging through it, the one piece of gravity defying hair bobbing up and down as he frantically searched through disorganized papers and crumpled up candy wrappers.

"Aha!" Triumphant, Yong Soo pulled out a thick stack of colored photos, scrawled all over with marks with red pen and 'x's. His face suddenly grew serious as he cleared his throat. "According to my meticulous research, I have finally conjectured the perfect haircut for you, Aniki. Nights of sleeplessness and restlessness pouring over such important matters, I have no doubt in this choice."

If Yao could sink into his chair, and into the ground, this would have been the perfect time.

Waving all the papers in front of Yao's face, Yong Soo exploded in an excited chatter. "It will be the best da~ze! You'll be so handsome! I went through all of the possible Kpop male idol haircuts and downloaded them off the internet and printed them out at home- !"

"You…what?" Yao's expression was livid.

Yong Soo immediately retracted at the tone of his brother's voice. "Um…" he repeated in a small voice, "…I just…printed some stuff out?"

"Where?" Yao demanded with a murderous countenance.

All traces of the sunny previous sunny smile were gone from Yong Soo's face as he was reduced to cowering. "…at…home?"

"Do. You. Know." A dangerously quiet voice hidden behind a smile Yong Soo knew very well and feared with all his might.

A vein popped.

"Just how much ink you wasted? Do you know HOW MUCH IT COSTS? You just wasted finite resources and money and I had to buy all those damn cartridges WITH MY OWN MONEY YOU LITTLE –" Suddenly Yao's face was pushed to the side as Feliks crowded in and snatched the papers from Yong Soo's hands and studied them.

"Oh my god, like which one?" Ignoring the Chinese boy's mortified expression at the utter ignoring of his rant, Feliks studied the pictures carefully. Yong Soo, seeing the blonde's interest, pointed enthusiastically at one of the pictures.

"This one!"

Feliks' eyes grew rounder and wider, staring at the photograph with a stunned expression on his face. "You," Feliks absentmindedly patted the Korean teenager on the back as he continued to stare at the image, "are like, a total genius. How did I, like, totally not think of that?"

Nodding, both of them turned to stare at Yao, scrutinizing his face, then looking down at the haircut. Up and back, up and back. Twin heads, one cornsilk and another jet ebony bobbing up and down. Yao began to feel cold sweat gather at the collar of his shirt, swallowing as he realized that…this wasn't going to lead anywhere but hell for him.

"You…guys…".

Pointedly ignoring him, they continued to stare.

"What…is it?" Yao was almost too scared to ask.

Feliks' and Yong Soo's smiles contained more than mere enjoyment as they crept upon Yao and whirled him around in his chair. Chuckling, they both answered at the same time.

"A perm!"

"….."

"…."

A quiet whimper escaped from Yao's lips, and before he could jump out of his chair and make a run for the door screaming bloody murder, his brother and friend had him by the hair and dragged him back with maniacal glints in their eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Round 5:<strong>

He found the immobile figure in the dark room alone, in front of a large computer screen, thumbs flicking so fast the movement seemed almost unnoticeable. The vivid images on the display shifted rapidly, and the boy in the room did not notice the tall figure standing by the doorway. His large headphones were oversized, struggling to keep from sliding off as he whispered furiously in the microphone attached, shooting out strategies at some faceless being on the other side of the line, the clack of the several game controllers clinking as he switched over to another with ease.

"I have an offer."

The Japanese boy was startled, whirling around to see the intruder. He looked up, eyes hard, flickering from the shifting lights. When he registered what had been said, a calculating smile spread across his face.

"What for?"

The Russian moved forward, stopping some distance away from the seated figure. The boy took off his earphones and placed the controllers by the desk. "It will benefit…both you and me. Of course, money isn't a problem."

The black haired gamer cocked his head to the side thinking and he looked at the tall man that stood immovably before him, eyes running up and down the length of his body as he absent-mindedly mused over the offer.

"And who does this involve?"

"That's secondary."

"I'd like to know at least who I'm dealing with."

"You're good with electronics, no?"

"Answer the question."

Met at a standstill, both paused and stared silently at each other, until a cruel smile lazily drew upon Ivan's face. He advanced, pensive for a fleeting moment until he leaned over the boy, shoving aside the controllers and smirked, breathing into the Asian boy's ear.

"Let's just say it's someone you hate…" he chuckled, "so much that you would do anything to…?"

Recognition glimmered in the Japanese boy's eyes as he snickered with a quiet cruelty and a knowing look, tilting his head, pushing back the tall man as he stood up.

"What say you, Honda?"

Two twin sneers that flashed in the darkness, a pact between devils.

"I'll take you up on that offer, Braginski."

* * *

><p>*G Dragon, 4minute, MBLAQ, Goo Hara and Junhyung are all Korean artists andor Boy/ Girl Bands.

*Morning Glory is a Korean brand…of cute stationery.

*The SNSD Tiffany shorts thing was just a reference to the article here on . It was the most read on that website; .com/2011/11/tiffany-of-snsds-white-shorts-hot-or-too-short

* * *

><p><strong>One last thing:<strong> Okay, I'm seriously not funny. I try and you know what, it's a pretty major fail…but would you guys like to see an omake? If so, of what? Hit me up with some ideas…because. *hangs head* I should make it up for the, er…very slow updates. I might need my friend Lucky on FF to help with it because I'm hopeless at humorous things, like you already know.

I promise I will update a lot faster next time!


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